


Absolute Beginners

by Endangered_Slug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Secondhand embarrassment, Shy Gold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6943780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endangered_Slug/pseuds/Endangered_Slug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anonymous prompted: Town menace Mr. Gold is actually very shy and doesn't like talking to people outside of rent or running his shop. But his son eventually convinces him to confess to his long-time crush, local librarian Belle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolute Beginners

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I didn't follow the prompt exactly because I'm a terrible person.

Mr. Gold poked his head around the corner of a dusty shelf, keeping one eye on his son who was flipping through a book about a sneezing panda and one eye on Belle French. The library was empty except for himself, his son… and Miss French, the head librarian who was manning the front desk while Ariel took her lunch break.

Monday afternoons were usually the quietest so he took Neal after school to pick out the week’s reading and, afterwards, they got an ice cream cone. It had become a little tradition for them, one he secretly looked forward to.

“Damn it,” Belle muttered, slapping at her computer with the flat of her hand. “Work faster you stupid—oh!”

Beating it must have worked because she got busy typing away, blowing a strand hair out of her face in exasperation as she peered at the computer screen.

Gold had noticed before that the computer was rather antiquated, but he hadn’t known just how bad it was until now. They should upgrade, surely the cost involved would be offset by the time saved not beating a piece of machinery to death. He’d talk to the mayor about it next time he saw her.

_Or_ , he thought, watching as Belle groaned in frustration when the computer made an unhealthy grinding noise, _I could make a charitable donation._

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Neal come up until the lad was yanking on his jacket, his sweet face turned up at him waiting for his notice.

“Papa! I’m done,” he said, his arms full of books spilling out in every direction.

Embarrassed to be caught staring at Miss French, even if it was by his own son, Gold quickly took a few books from him and helped carry them to the checkout where Belle was waiting with a pencil and paper.

“Hey, Neal!” she said before glancing up at Gold a moment before bringing her attention back to Neal with a rueful smile. “The system’s down right now so you’ll have to sign them out the old fashioned way.”

_You could use a new computer_ , Gold thought, staring at a spot on the counter, avoiding prolonged eye contact with her. He discovered long ago that looking directly into her eyes was a dangerous thing for his old heart so he tried to avoid doing so.

He tended to forget his own name whenever she was close by — a fact that frightened him a great deal because he found that, as much as he didn’t want to be a wibbling idiot around her, he craved being near her and couldn’t stay away for long no matter how excruciating it felt. It was perplexing problem and one he’d been trying to overcome for some time now, but he was weak and found himself allowing Neal to drag him to the library’s threshold at least three times a week.

_Maybe the mayor will find extra money in the budget this year,_ he thought. It was on the tip of his tongue to say exactly that, but his mouth was mysteriously glued shut and all that came out was an indistinct grunt.

Belle looked at him, an eyebrow raised expectantly, but when he didn’t say anything with actual, coherent words, she looked away again, clearing her throat as quietly as possible in the oppressive silence as she fiddled with a paper clip.

Neal took his time painstakingly copying out the book titles in his best handwriting, the scratching of the pencil against the paper excruciatingly loud in the empty library. Now would be a good time to mention the computer. Or to ask if she would like to join them for ice cream. Yes, that would be a better idea. Neal could talk to her while he… watched her lick the melting ice cream off a cone… oh, no, bad idea. Bad.

Thank goodness he was on the other side of the library desk.

Gold’s eyes flitted to Belle every so often, noting the way her hair curled over her shoulders and that she was wearing lipgloss today instead of lipstick and the way that particular shade of blue of her blouse made her skin look positively luminescent. _Luminescent Belle_ , he mused, smiling dreamily until he saw her watching him with a puzzled look. The smile dropped and he looked away, his ears reddening with embarrassment.

At long last, Neal was finished, shoving the paper over to Belle along with the pencil. She took it from him with a beaming smile and handed him a plastic sack to carry away the haul.

“I hope you enjoy them, Neal,” she said, her voice warm with sincerity and Gold felt his heart stutter in his chest as she glanced at him, her eyes smiling.

Gold took a deep breath and opened his mouth, the invitation for ice cream just on the tip of his tongue.

“Good day, Mr. Gold,” she said.

“...’Too,” he replied, stupidly and he squeezed his eyes shut as Neal led him out the door, hurrying to Every Given Sundae as if the ice cream parlor would disappear from the earth before they got there.

Damn. Next time. He’d get it right next time.

* * *

 

“You like her,” Neal said absently as he licked at a dribble of ice cream running down his fist. They were walking back to the pawnshop from the ice cream parlor, quickly eating their cones before they melted in the heat.

Gold, mid-lick on his own cone, looked at his son in askance. “Hmm?”

“Miss French.”

He swallowed his ice cream with a loud, choking gulp. “Why do you say that?”

“You look stupid whenever you’re around her,” Neal said matter-of-factly.

Gold staggered to a halt, then hurried on to catch up with his son. “I— stupid? Stupid how?”

“Like this,” he said, crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. “You should just ask her out.”

“What do you know about asking people out?”

Neal shrugged his shoulders and took another swipe off his cone. “You gonna eat yours, Papa?”

“Hmm?” Gold said, absently before he noticed that his ice cream had begun to run down his sleeve. “Oh crap,” he said, flinging the sticky droplets off his hand.

* * *

 

David Nolan stuck a finger in his collar and pulled at it while Gold silently stared at him, his unforgiving gaze penetrating straight through his bones, down to into his wallet, no doubt counting every last penny.   
  


“And so, y-you see, we’re going to be a bit short with the rent this month,” he stammered feeling like an ant under a magnifying glass.

Gold lifted an eyebrow. Then, slowly, his lips opened, a damning word on the tip of his tongue.

“Yes, yes, yes, I see your point,” David stammered, clearing throat as he backed away. “I, uh, I’ll see if I can pick up an extra shift or two over at the shelter,” he said in a hurry as he fumbled for the door handle. “Everything will be paid in full on the fifteenth, I promise,” he yelled over his shoulder t as he stumbled out the door. He hurried down the street feeling as if the hounds of Hell, or worse, Gold, were on his heels.

Leroy, passed him on the way and called out. “How’d it go, Nolan?”

“Horrible!” David told him. “Didn’t grant me an extension at all. He’s merciless!”

Leroy spat on the sidewalk in disgust and turned to Gold’s pawnshop with a deep breath, gathering the nerve to ask the man about his own extension. Really, Gold was a monster. No one should be that heartless.

* * *

 

It was Thursday and Gold found himself back in the library while Neal was at school. The quiet solitude was different here than it was at his shop. At the shop, the silence was oppressive, but here at the library it served a comforting purpose. ‘Be quiet I’m reading’ just felt better than it’s quiet because no one wanted to be near you.

As usual, the library was mostly empty except for a few patrons who were browsing the stacks. Gold avoided them, lingering over in the reference section and wearing, he assumed, a stupid look on his face.

Belle was in her office, not that he could see her, but she wasn’t up front and she wasn’t reshelving so she must be there. He racked his brain trying to think of some excuse to talk to her today, but nothing came to mind. Nothing plausible at least. He’d rehearsed this a thousand times in his head: Walk up to her, smile, say something witty, ask her out, and then politely leave after she refused. Why was this so hard? Why did his tongue feel like it was filled with lead whenever he was around her?

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, balling them up into fists and glared at the shelf in front of him, barely noticing the books. Why was he so useless?

“May I help you,” a sweet voice said from the end of the aisle.

Startled at the sound of Belle’s voice, he turned towards her, mouth open in shock before it snapped shut with a clack. _Do it,_ he urged himself. _Say something! Be charming._

“Uh…” he shook his head, twisted his mouth into a smile that felt wrong on his face.

So much for charming.

She tilted her head and stepped closer. “Are you sure?” she asked. “You don’t look well,” she told him, her eyes narrowing in concern.

_Of course I don’t look well. I look stupid and I would sound stupid if I could just open my mouth long enough to say two words to you_ , he thought bitterly. “M’good,” was all that he could manage and he died a little inside as she shrank away from his rudeness.

She wrinkled her face in confusion as she turned away, her lips turned down in a pout. “Okay, then, I’ll just leave you to it,” she said as she walked back to her office. “Try not to scare off the other patrons.”

His shoulders slumped as she left and he stared at the empty space she’d occupied in confusion. _Scare_ them? Why would he do _that_?

* * *

 

The weekend passed by uneventfully with Gold accompanying Neal to the park, to the movies, to the ice cream parlor again, and to Granny’s where he had the pleasure of watching his son charm everyone within a fifteen yard radius. The way his boy opened up in front of people amazed him and, more than once, he wondered how he did it. How did an eight year-old open his mouth and just speak to people? Incredible, really. Neal was a natural at it. He didn’t seem to have to think of what to say at all. Gold admired his son for a great many reasons, but his ease around people was the one thing he was envious of.

His eyes wandered to the counter where Belle French sat alone. She was reading a book and lost to the world, which gave him ample opportunity to drink her in. The niggling thought that he might ask her over to join them kept popping up like an unwanted gopher which he tamped down with a mental shovel. It would be nice to have her company, he thought, sucking in a deep breath until his lungs felt full.

Except she thought he was scary.

He let his breath out in one big gust. He probably sounded like a bellows.

“Neal,” he said, leaning over the table towards his son who was busy stuffing his face full of the #2 special. He waited until he looked up, his cheeks round with unchewed food and his eyes wide from the shock of being addressed during dinner. Gold smiled at him, gently. “Do you, uh, do you think I’m scary?”

Laughing with a full mouth was never a good idea and he certainly didn’t intend to make his son choke on his food, but try explaining that to the twenty-some odd people enjoying dinner at Granny’s on a Sunday night with the table and chairs overturned and dishes scattered everywhere as he pounded on Neal’s back.

“Here!”

A hand thrust a glass of water at his face and he grabbed it, shoving it towards Neal who was just losing that purple tint around his ears. Neal gulped it down, his food now on his lap, half-chewed and not fit to feed a dog. The relief Gold felt was miniscule compared to the pounding guilt for causing him to choke in the first place. He ran a shaking hand through his hair and looked around wildly, wondering who would be the first to accuse him of attempted murder.

His eyes fell on Belle’s and the worry he saw there made him feel worse. He’d failed as a parent, nearly killed his son, and it was witnessed by the one person who he wanted to to like him. He looked away, ashamed, dropping to his knees to comfort his son. What did the ache in his ankle matter compared to the agony in his heart?

“What happened,” Granny demanded, shoving her way through the crowd of onlookers, standing in front of Gold with her hands on her hips.

“He was choking,” Gold stammered and at once her face lost its hostility.

“Poor kid,” she said, her face wrinkled in concern, making a soft tsking sound that did little to assuage Gold’s guilt. “I’ll go get him another meal. Maybe wrap it up so you can take it home?” She looked at him over her glasses as if assessing his ability to function and came to a poor conclusion.

The hint taken, Gold nodded his head and helped his son up from the floor, rubbing at his back in what he hoped was soothing circles. Neal, embarrassed about causing a scene, wrapped his hands around him and buried his face in his jacket. He would take his son home and feed a dozen cookies to make up for it.

The commotion over, the other diners went back to their seats, everyone talking about what had just happened while Ruby came out to put the table back to rights again. Gold looked at the mess he’d created, more guilt weighing down at him and he’d tried to apologize to the waitress for it, but she just ignored him and went on sweeping up the broken glass and spilled food on the floor.

Granny came out with a sack filled with food, handing it to him with a stern look, accepting a wad of cash and the apology without word. Neal was at the door and ready to go, waiting for his father impatiently while he settled the bill. Gold pulled out a wad of cash, leaving most of it behind in an effort to make up for the chaos.

Gold, holding the door open for his son, glanced back at Belle.

She’d climbed back onto her stool and began settling herself once again. “Can I have another glass of water, Ruby,” she asked in a low voice, opening her book again before looking over her shoulder and gave him a small smile.

* * *

 

The library was packed with teenagers, nearly all of them taller than Gold and every single one of them was talking over one another like it was going out of style. He stood in the doorway wondering if he’d walked into another dimension when he saw Belle make her way towards the front, pushing an empty returns cart in front of her while addressing someone over her shoulder.

There was a banquet table near the front with pizza boxes piled high on top. _So much for no eating in the library_ , he thought with a small smirk before it disappeared faster than ice in the Sahara. He had no business being there now, there was obviously some kind of teen… _thing_ going on and he was very much not a teen or welcome to participate. The place was crawling with people who looked at him as if he was going to rip his face off to reveal a  reptilian-like alien creature — just before he ate their brains.

He walked in anyway because of course he did. What was another ounce of humiliation heaped on top of the pounds he carried anyway? But Belle was there at the refreshments table, with Ariel next to her. They were huddled together — some sort of quick conference it seemed, and, as the only other adult in the vicinity, he, naturally, gravitated towards them. And Belle.

Mostly Belle.

She glanced at him, curiously, before turning her attention to Ariel again, holding up a finger to stave off whatever it was he was going to say. It was funny in all actuality since he’d never spoken a complete sentence to her, but the intent was there. Silence.

“So I’ve had five complaints already about the noise,” Ariel said, glaring at Gold as if he’d been the party pooper to call them in. “And no one’s even touched the pizza,” she whined. “They’re, like, sixteen years old, this should be gone by now.”

“I love pizza,” Gold burst out then felt his face grow hot with scary, stupid-looking shame.

Ariel stopped talking to stare at him. “I’m sor— er, _what_?”

“Ah… n-nothing,” he said, quickly.

What was he thinking? He _hated_ pizza.

This was ridiculous. He was foolish to think he d be able to talk to Belle. He turned around and left leaving Belle to stare at him in confusion.

At least he got a full sentence out. Progress! Too bad he’d never be able to show his face in the library again to see if he could improve upon it.

* * *

 

Gold stared at his tie in the mirror as he adjusted it, glancing from it to his face in turns, never letting his gaze land on any facial feature for longer than a second at a time. He didn't like looking in the mirror. It made shaving an ordeal, but he managed to get around that by concentrating on the part he was shaving, one section at a time.

Stupid look. Of course eight year-old boys tended to be thoughtless with their words and he knew Neal didn't mean to hurt his feelings, but the phrase hadn't left his mind in months. He probably _did_ look stupid and knowing that a second grader could tell that he was infatuated with the beautiful librarian didn’t do anything to reassure him that his feelings were kept well-hidden. He was stupid looking around her, plain as day. Everyone could see it.

Another fleeting glance at his crooked nose before his eyes drifted away again. A quick survey of his ears, a peek at his forehead, then a deep breath before he looked at his eyes. No, that was too much. He glanced away before he began to panic.

Scary. That was another word that nagged at him for weeks. Belle thought he was scary and Neal told him he looked stupid when he was around her. He was scary and stupid and he couldn't bring himself to say five words to her without running off.

No wonder she didn't like him.

He turned away from the mirror in disgust.

* * *

 

There was brisk business in the library, but, this time, Gold had no way of getting out of going in, not with Neal tugging at his hand, urging him to move, “Faster, Papa! Faster!”

The magic show had been advertised for weeks and Neal had talked of nothing else ever since the posters had gone up in every storefront window around town. There would be balloon art and coloring contests and ice cream for the kids in an attempt to garner interest.

It wasn’t packed, but there were enough people to both make Gold feel ill at ease and safely hidden at the same time. He hoped that he would gather up the nerve to say something to Miss French at last, and, as he got a good look at the shiny, new computer sitting on the checkout desk, he felt a swell of pride bloom in his chest before it shrivelled up like a dry bean in the pit of his stomach.

He followed Neal to the activities, hovering on the peripheral for a time until he realized that Neal was in his own little world with his school friends and he didn’t need his father hanging around scaring them.

He touched his son’s shoulder and quietly told him that he would be browsing the books if he wanted him and to have fun. Neal didn’t even look up, just grabbed another crayon and told him to say hi to Miss French for him.

Gold tried to laugh but nothing came out. Well, Neal was perceptive and now he’d given him a mission. He went off towards the literature section, his eyes peeled for a charming librarian, whom he’d found by Agriculture & Gardening.

She was trapped, surrounded by people talking at her from all sides, every one demanding her attention be focused solely on them.

She looked entirely harassed and fed up and ready to blow her top and Gold took pity on her. Couldn’t they see that she was only one person? That protective bit inside of him, the one that came out when he had parent/teacher meetings or confrontations with other parents at the school, welled up, feeling like a volcano that had been activated.

He strode over, doing his best to make sure the sound of his cane could be heard over the screeching of fifty pairs of lungs. Everyone in town knew that sound and at once the group around Belle stopped their yammering and turned to look at him.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he kind of loved the look of terror people got when he walked up to them. Time to be scary.

“Good afternoon,” he said, his teeth bared in a smile that probably made him look like a deranged crocodile. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with Miss French.” He waited half a beat before adding, “in private.” He stared at Belle, watching her gulp noticeably before straightening her shoulders out and lifting her chin at him. The others scattered, not caring that one of their own was about to be eaten alive.

“Of course,” she said, her voice low and filled with irritation as she led him to her office, letting him in before closing the door behind her with a loud click.

Her office was filled with books and a small desk with a rickety chair that looked like a torture device. Another antiquated computer perched took up most of the desk space and, looking around him, there were only boxes of books for visitors to sit on.

Damn. He should have thought that her work computer would have needed replacing, too. Well, that was easy enough to fix. He’d have a new one ordered this evening.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Gold, but real estate is at a premium in here,” Belle said, turning herself to the side to squeeze by him.

She took great pains not to touch him, failing completely as he stood rooted to the spot, his ears tingling at her hands brushed against his shoulders to keep her balance. He closed his eyes as she passed, inhaling sharply at the touch of her fingers. He’d never been this close to her before and he didn’t know what to do with himself. He could smell her perfume, a heady aroma of roses that invaded his senses and he caught himself leaning towards her as she walked away, only just managing to stop himself from snatching at her hand to pull her back to him so he could taste her lips and see if they were as soft and sweet as they looked.

She made it to her desk without incident or molestation, sat down primly with her hands folded in front of her, looked up at him, and asked with that low voice that made his toes curl. “What seems to be the problem, Mr. Gold?”

* * *

 

He blinked at her as if he’d just noticed she was there. His cheeks went ruddy as he opened his mouth, but of course, nothing came out.

Belle had long suspected that Mr. Gold wasn't as fearsome as people made him out to be. She'd watched him when he came in with his son every week. He was patient and sweet and smiled with his eyes more than anyone would have guessed. She seen him help Neal with his homework or read story after story while the boy sat in his lap, fascinated. When Neal was proficient enough to read by himself, Gold watched over him, helping him over the harder words until he was no longer needed as a guide. Mr. Gold was a gentle soul, she eventually decided and let him loiter in the library probably more than she should have allowed. After some time, he grew on her. His long hair and long nose and soft brown eyes had a way of lingering with her after he’d gone home and she’d always looked forward to seeing him again. Even if the man didn’t speak more than three words to her.

This evening she finally caught a glimpse of the man the rest of the town had called a heartless monster and she couldn’t say the she was displeased.

Everyone had been so insistent that she listen to them before all others, and, as much as she couldn’t say it outloud, none of them had a problem that needed attention right that very second. The least they could have done was wait for a time when she wasn’t busy with an event. Being cornered and talked to like that by so many people got her back up so she was relieved when Mr. Gold interrupted them and scared them all away. When he addressed her so abruptly in the hallway, she was more than a little surprised because she’d never heard him say anything more than “h’lo”, “bye”, “mmmm”, and the occasional blustering squeak.

“Is it about Neal?” she began, patiently.

He shook his head and gestured towards the door.

“The men’s room is two doors down,” she offered, tilting her head to the side.

Blink. Blush. A shake of his head. She was beginning to see the pattern now.

Slowly, and blushing furiously, he spoke, “No. You, ah, you looked… overwhelmed.”

Another tilt of her head as she eyed him. She didn’t think he meant that he thought she was in over her head, but… “You rescued me?” she asked after a moment.

“They can take a number,” he told her, quite firmly, his eyes flashing momentarily sending her breath down into her knees only to ricochet back up in a most unprofessional giggle.

Her laugh startled him and the flush on his cheeks deepened noticeably, but there was a soft smile on his lips that made something inside her feel warm.

“You don’t like crowds do you, Mr. Gold.”

A soft “no’ much” was her only answer, but it seemed like he was beginning to relax a bit, which was promising. She looked around her desk for something to talk about. It was all books of course, but, as her eyes fell on one in particular, she smiled when a kernel of an idea sprouted.

“I’ve heard you read to Neal,” she told him. “Before he learned to do it himself,” she clarified at his quizitive look.

“That was… that was a while ago,” he told her.

“It was, but I enjoyed it while it lasted,” she told him truthfully.

Blink. Blush. A quick lick of his lips, then the most surprising offer, “Did you… did you want me to read to you, Miss French?”

She beamed at him, pushing the worn out copy towards him. “I’d really like it, Mr. Gold.”

He accepted the book from her, handling it carefully, which Belle appreciated. He glanced at the title, then gave her a look that made her feel like she’d just done a naughty thing and would be punished severely for it. There was no shyness now. Not when he had something to focus on.

“You want me to unleash the full brogue then?” he asked with the hint of a dangerous smirk.

Yes, she was going to pay and pay dearly. “Be my guest,” she said, leaning back in her chair. May as well get comfortable while a handsome man reads Robert Burns to you.

“D’you have any requests?” he said, as he opened the cover, glancing over the table of contents.

“Pick whatever one you want.”

He thumbed through the pages, looking for one in particular. He paused, considering the poem, then flicked to another page where he hesitated for a second before going back to the first one, then licked his lips and opened his mouth. He began quietly, but, after he got used to the sound of his own voice, his confidence grew, his accent thickened and Belle felt positively assaulted by the way the timbre in his voice washed over her.

_Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie,_

_O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!_

_Thou need na start awa sae hasty,_

_Wi’ bickerin brattle!_

_I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee_

_Wi’ murd’ring pattle…._

Yes, this was dangerous territory she’d stumbled upon.

* * *

 

Ariel stalked through the stacks looking for her boss, missing since that bastard, Gold, had unceremoniously disturbed a small conference with several concerned patrons. At least that was the story she was given. Like her boss, she didn’t think there was much truth to Gold’s reputation. The man she saw was too shy to be a monster, but she still needed to find Belle as the magic show was over and there was a line of people at the front desk. Their two volunteers could only work so fast…

Not having found Belle down any aisle, she checked the bathrooms before stopping in front of the office door. It was closed, but the light was on, which meant that Belle was in there, possibly with Mr. Gold, though she didn’t know what they could be doing inside the room for so long. She strode towards the door and put her hand on the knob.

A thought of exactly what she might find raced through her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. It was obvious that Gold had a crush on Belle, but she was sure the feeling wasn’t reciprocated in the least. They were probably just… well, given Gold’s timid nature, they were probably staring at the wall.

No, there was a deep, low voice that she didn’t recognize murmuring something and she paused before silently turning the handle to peek in a bit, not wanting to disturb them if their meeting was important, whoever it was. To her surprise, the voice belonged to Gold himself, reading from a ragged book of poetry in his hands, his attention focused solely on the words in front of him, oblivious to the way Belle was sitting, an elbow on her desk and her chin propped up in her hand while the other arm lay flat across the desk as if it had flopped down and was too boneless to move, her eyes had glazed over and her mouth hanging open just a bit. It looked like she was out of breath, but that didn’t make any sense—

Oh.

_I will love thee still, my dear,_

_While the sands o’ life shall run._

_Oh!_ Ariel thought with a sudden start as she listened to the way Gold’s mouth wrapped around the ancient words.

_And fare thee weel, my only luve!_

_And fare thee weel awhile!_

_And I will come again, my luve,_

_Though it were ten thousand mile._

Well, it seems Gold’s little crush was about to be requited after all. She closed the door as quietly as she could and backed away from the door, leaving them to their weird mating ritual.

She’d just explain to the volunteers that Belle was occupied with more important things.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> The poems read were sections from The Mouse and A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns  
> The title is from a song by David Bowie


End file.
